


What price freedom?

by queefqueen



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-08
Updated: 2014-08-08
Packaged: 2018-02-12 08:04:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2101920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queefqueen/pseuds/queefqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This an Eomer-Lothiriel story. Some of those who have read my previous effort in this genre used the term "disgusting" in their reviews. Fret not. I will not disappoint - this one is disgusting too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What price freedom?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tommyginger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tommyginger/gifts).



Year 1 Fourth Age

Lothiriel wriggled in her seat. She still had a godly amount of linen stuffed into her crotch but now her condition was "almost spotting", no longer the constant post partum bleeding. And the tear was almost healed. Nevertheless in her joy she judged these to be small discomforts. She rode in her carriage eastwards, towards Minas Tirith and freedom.

Almost two years previously

"Father you can't do this to me! He's a man-whore! He beds anything that moves!"

"Shut your mouth! No more lip! And no such language! You will wed Eomer! That's final. Endure his whoring like any good wife!"

Some eleven months previously

Considering princess' Lothiriel's tantrums, genuine and faked fainting, the more or less public crying of her eyes out over her impeding marriage, her calm during the wedding and the celebration was astonishing. As was the speed with which she downed her wine.

She finally puked over the groom, and then cried and giggled while the lion manned powerfully built Rohir with iron muscled thighs and commanding gaze carried her to their chamber. Once he had placed her on the bed she clumsily hiked up her skirts and moaned:

"Oh, Eomer, fuck me. Fuck me while I'ma drunk and I donna feel anything. Don' bother wiff da dress, don' shay anything, jus' fuck me ... "

Over the next few weeks she endured their coupling, thinking about her dresses, embroidery or cooking recipes while Eomer groaned and grunted on top of her.

When her monthly was a week late she immediately moved to another bedroom.

During gestation she waved off any cooing over the spawn growing inside her. She was indifferent towards it, it was not hers. It was only hers to endure.

A month previously

Birthing was another thing she had to endure. For a whole day.

Once it started to scream she yelled with whatever strength she had left:

"Get it out of here! I don't want to see it! Get it the fuck out!"

They shoved it at her, pleading for her to suckle but her screams of:

"Then find some fucking milk! I don't have any for it! Take it away or I'll cause it harm" finally got the message across.

"Your Highness, would you ..."

"NO!"

continued for a week or so before the women gave up. Eomer did not even try. The filthy swine was not that stupid.

Some eleven months and one week previously

Sleepless and miserable over her upcoming marriage to the promiscuous King of Rohan, the raven haired and porcelain skinned Swan Princess was sitting in a hayloft over the stables. This would be the last place anybody would come looking for her.

She heard male boots accompanied by a woman's shoes patter inside. This did not interrupt her brooding. The moans and gasps of love making either. The fact that the male voice belonged to her husband-to-be left her unmoved. This was not the first time she had been witness to his wanton dick sticking. But when she identified the woman's voice she sat up with hand at her mouth and with bulging eyes the size of saucers! It could not be!

She slithered gracefully down the ladder and unmasked the lantern next to the stall producing sounds worthy of an Umbarian orgy.

After some gasps of surprise and recognition Lothiriel began to laugh, a strange giddiness coming upon her. Seeing Eomer rise and move towards her she backed off and grabbed a manure dripping pitchfork.

"Oh no you don't. One more step and I'll start screaming. Explain my dead body to the King and my father then, pervert swine!" – she said with steel in her voice, keeping her weapon between them.

"You won't dare!"

She began to speak loudly, syllable by syllable, gradually raising her voice.

"E-om-er-is-fu-ck-ing-E-ow-yn. E-om ..."

"OK. What do you want?" – the barefoot and bare bottomed King of the Mark snarled. The rustling in the stall suggested that Eowyn was trying to bring her attire to some reasonable condition.

"I will keep my mouth shut about you two on the condition that our marriage contract is amended. Before King Aragorn. And tommorow."

And so two points were added, in small script and upside down as too prevent Prince Imrahil from noticing.

One was that her dowry was her personal property from the moment of marriage, the other was that once she bore a child, then either spouse could dissolve the marriage.

.

Back to "now"

Lothiriel smiled – she was free at last.


End file.
